


Love your Brother

by jkkitty



Series: Love Your Brother [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Beating, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Male Slash, Torture, mylock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11360817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkkitty/pseuds/jkkitty
Summary: This is in answer to two prompts from Holmes Brothers Inc on Live Journal#8 John and Mycroft gets into a roll and Sherlock takes Mycroft's side.  Mycroft is surprised and they get to talk#7  Someone breaks into Mycroft's house and injuries him.  Sherlock gets after the criminals and Mycroft realizes that he does mean something to him.Thanks for Sparky for her great Beta work.





	1. Sticking up for Big Brother

“Keep your big nose out of our business, Mycroft. You don’t govern mine or Sherlock’s life, and your interference is not welcome. Your brother is a big boy and doesn’t need a minder or a keeper. So, stop offering me incentives to spy on him and keep you informed of what goes on in this flat.” John stood as close to Mycroft as possible, poking his finger into Mycroft’s chest. His action would have two big men removing anyone else.

“You don’t understand, John. There's a killer who has targeted my brother because of me, and I intend to keep him safe and unharmed this time. I’m only asking you to ensure that Sherlock moves, with you of course, to a safe house for a few days. I had no intention of suggesting a bribe or incentive. My brother’s life is too valuable to allow that madman, Davison, out there hurting me by killing him.” Mycroft was for once really was not trying to interfere with Sherlock but protect him.

Sherlock had seen his brother’s car and quietly had climbed the stairs. When he heard the augment between his roommate and brother, he stood on the landing and listened.

“Too valuable, you use him as a personal one-man attack dog when you want to get something done. Perhaps you should have thought about his value before you told Moriarty all his secrets and weaknesses and almost got him killed.” John anger was rising as he shouted, fist clenched.

“You don’t know why I did what I did, so don’t assume you do.” Mycroft voice was edged in frost as he moved back from the doctor.

“Your brother may call me an idiot, but I know you’re the one who gave that mad man information to destroy your brother.”

“Stop!” Sherlock stepped into the room and moved between the two. “Mycroft is right John. You don’t know why it was important for Moriarty to get the information.”

“You’re defending him,” pointing a thumb toward Mycroft. “If anything, you should hate him more than I do. He caused you to give up two years of your life. Do not defend this piranha.”

“John,” Sherlock began but stopped for a minute when Mycroft shook his head and said before Sherlock could continue.

"You do not need to do this, brother mine. Dr. Watson’s opinion of myself is unimportant.” Mycroft knew it might hurt Sherlock’s relationship with John to tell him what had happened.

“It’s not fair to you for him to blame you for something we decided and planned together. Both of us felt that this was the only way to make Moriarty tip his hand. I knew what could happen if we carried through with the plan.”

“Don’t cover for him and claim you knew about it. He didn’t think of you as your reputation was destroyed, then blamed for the crimes you solved, or you had to jump to your death. Then spend two years running being hurt and even tortured while your friends grieved, and he just sat behind his big desk.”

“Enough John, you know nothing. Mycroft and I planned this together. And he has been trying to make up for everything that went wrong during those two years since I came back. Like attempting to protect me from this madman, although he knows I won’t hide.”

John exploded, “You planned this, knew what would happen and didn’t feel the need to inform your best friend. And now you expect me to forgive that not only Mycroft but you for tearing my life apart for two years.”

Hanging his head down, “I’m sorry, so sorry you suffered John but it was necessary. Mycroft only did what was needed to take Moriarty down.”

“Doctor Watson, I know you’re upset, but I must insist that Sherlock comes with me. The safe house would only be for a few days, a week at most until we capture this madman. It is not the time for this discussion.” Mycroft interrupted.

John turned on both men, “Then tell me when it is the right time. You both felt it was fine to cause such pain. Well, you deserve each other. Yes, take him to the safe house. If I ever see either of you again, it will be too soon. When he tucks you safely away from the maniac, I’ll pick up my belongings.” John grabbed his coat and stomped down the stairs.


	2. Why can’t I ever find love or friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock allows Mycroft to see his emotions and almost gives away something.

 

“John,” Sherlock cried staring at the door. Turning toward Mycroft, his shoulders fell, and his face lined with pain.

Mycroft could see the angst in his brother’s face and saw how his brother’s lower lip was trembling. After a moment, he placed a light hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. “He’ll be back once he cools down, little brother.”

As Sherlock shook his head, tears began to appear in his eyes. “Not this time, I promised him I wasn’t keeping anything else from him. He’ll never forgive this lie and will detest me. He’s gone for good.”

“Sherlock, you don’t believe that. You did what was needed to keep your friends safe, and John will understand and come around. Have you ever told him what happened in those years away? Has he ever even asked?”

“Never, I don’t want him to feel guilty, so we haven’t talked about it. I don’t blame him for not asking as I hurt him too gravely.”

“You two need to discuss those two years and what happened. It will always be an obstruction to returning your relationship to what it was before you left until you do. I know you care very deeply about the doctor, but this is as much his fault. You have never even allowed him to see your scars. Surely he would know that your time away was not a picnic if you did.”

Sherlock started to shake, and Mycroft led him to the couch. Sitting him down, he sat beside him. Tears ran down his face while silent sobs rocked his body.

Mycroft felt his brother’s head lay on his shoulder. “Mycie, why can’t I ever find love or even friendship that I don’t destroy.” The sobs increased in volume and intensity.

The use of his childhood name and closeness of Sherlock was uncomfortable. He cared for his brother and wanted to see him happy, but too many things seemed to prevent this from happening. The many incidents between them kept them from really helping each other to feel pleasure in the others present.

After Sherlock had quieted, he became aware of how he was sitting and jerked up quickly. He could feel his forgotten feelings for Mycroft crashing back. Quickly he moved hoping to prevent his brother from discovering how he felt. The comments he often made to Mycroft were just the opposite of his sentiments. He was in love with his brother, but couldn’t let him know, or he would forever lose him. But he can never admit to Mycroft that he looks forward to his visits, and only keep distant and insulting to keep his brother from discovering his true feelings.

According to everyone, sibling incest was not only wrong in every way, but against the law. Sherlock could never allow his feelings to injury his brother’s life and job. Beside Mycroft would never feel the same way. He believed caring wasn’t an advantage. He knew Mycroft would never return his feelings.

“What is wrong brother mine?” Mycroft was not surprised at his brother’s movement. Although neither liked showing emotions, Sherlock had always been his worst enemy by allowing his feelings to rule his life. Of course, he would deny this, just as he was doing now even though the situation was understandable.

“I’m apology for my loss of control. It won’t happen again.” Sherlock stood and began pacing.

“The safe house?”

“You usually just need me to do your legwork. That’s the only thing I’m good for you.” Sherlock sounded disappointed before he could catch himself. It wouldn’t do to let Mycroft hear the need in his voice.

“You're good for more than just legwork. The cases you solve save lives. Besides, you know I don’t do emotion, but need to keep you safe, or mummy will kill me,” Mycroft smirked.

Sounding offended. “Oh, we wouldn’t want to upset mummy.”

Sherlock looked around 221B. It was where he lived for a long time, but John made it his home. They were a family. Not lovers but someone who understood him.

“If you’re right and he comes back, I need to be here to explain to John why I didn’t tell him and apologized.”

“Come to the safehouse. I’ll have a man watch for him, and bring him to you when he comes back.” Mycroft assured him.

Coming to the decision that he couldn’t stay in the apartment tonight in case John returned, to claim his property, he said. “I’ll just pack a few things, but your men better catch him quickly, or I’ll go find this Davison myself,” Sherlock threatened and then unsure. “And you do promise to bring John if he does return.”

Mycroft nodded and waited for his brother to pack before heading toward the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the wonderful response. I always enjoyed an emotional Sherlock. Next chapter up tomorrow.


	3. Afraid to admit they care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davison arrives, a shot is heard and Sherlock is emotional.

It had been five days, and nothing. No word from John although he hadn’t returned to gather his things or of Davison. Sherlock was bored and wanted to shoot holes in the wall but didn't have a gun when Mycroft entered the house to see his brother throwing pencils into the dropped ceiling.

“Really Sherlock, must you destroy everywhere you are.”

“Bored, bored, bored. Tell me you found Davison, and I’ll stop.” Sherlock retorted before throwing himself on the couch facing the back.

“Unfortunately, we’re close but not yet.”

“And John?”

“He called demanding to know where you were, but hasn’t come back yet.”

Anger took Sherlock. “You have one day then I’m leaving to find Davison and try to find John.”

“Be reasonable Sherlock. That madman has put a price on your head or even for information as to where you are.” Mycroft argued.

“Tomorrow and then I’m out there.”

Knowing he wouldn’t change his brother’s mind, Mycroft left to put a fire under his men.

Later that night Sherlock was pouting on the couch when he heard a creaking on the top step followed by slow footsteps coming behind him. It was neither Mycroft or John’s. Turning slowly, he found a gun aimed at his face but far enough away he couldn’t knock it out of his visitor’s hand.

“What took you so long? I was getting so bored waiting for you to show up.” Sherlock looked Davison up and down. “Though from what I see you don’t have the brains to find me by yourself.”

“Pipe down, gov and watch wut you say ta me. Ya in a spot of bother, I’m ‘olding me gun.” The man hissed at him.

“Right, so what are you planning to do now?” Sherlock yawned to show his tedium.

“Ya a ‘ard man ta find, Mr. ‘olmes. I never thought ya would be one ta ‘ide from a threat, but I guessing both ‘olmes bruvvers are cowards. Ain’t got the bottle ta do face me, has ya?”

As Davison continued to insult Sherlock, John, and Mycroft, who had met at the door, came up behind him.

“If you’re going to kill me, could you do it before you murder more of the English language. I can’t abide poor language.”

As the madman raised his gun, Mycroft stepped on a loose board causing Davison to turn around and fire. In the next second, John returned the shot knocking Davison down while holding his side.

Sherlock flew up from the couch and lifted his brother’s head. “No, No, No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Wake up Mycie, don’t you dare die on me.”

John was on the phone with Anthea, letting her know the situation when a groan came from the “British Government’s” lips as his eyes rolled back in his head.

Dropping the phone, he knelt on the other side of Sherlock using his hands to put pressure on the wound in Mycroft leg. “Sherlock, get me something to stop this bleeding.” A look at his roommate showed Sherlock wasn’t hearing him. “Sherlock, now!”

The shout was enough to bring Sherlock around and in search of something. A moment later, he returned with his blue scarf. John grabbed it as pressed it tightly on the wound. Just as quickly it became soaked.

Sherlock was holding his brother’s hand, a look of fear on his face. The door filled with gun-toting men in suits, Mycroft’s agents, followed by the ambulance personnel. “Clear,” one of them yelled. Sherlock was pushed out of the way as the men began to work on his brother.

Sherlock followed John and the gurney to the ambulance where one of the crew attempted to stop him.

“He’s my brother, and I’m going with him,” Sherlock roared while attempting to enter.

“Let him,” Anthea, who had arrived, instructed the attendant. “Otherwise you’ll have a war on your hands. He’s Mr. Holmes brother.” Using Mycroft’s title to ensure compliance.

A threatening glance at Sherlock then the attendant said, “Fine, but stay out of our way.”

Sherlock would have agreed with the devil’s orders to be by Mycroft's side now that he admitted his feelings to himself. He hurried in beside his brother and grabbed his hand before the man could change his mind. Ignoring John’s look, he stayed that way until they arrived and Mycroft was rushed into surgery to stop the bleeding.

“Are you all right, Sherlock?” John sat next to the quiet man. The fact that he wasn’t demanding information, pacing, yelling bored, or any of his other typical behaviors was worrying.

“I’m fine.” Sherlock’s assertion was a dare to press the issue.

“Really. You forget I was there and saw your concern and don’t you try to deny it.” John declared.

“I don’t know what you’re mean. Ah Doctor, how is he?” Sherlock changed the subject as the physician arrived.

“He’ll be fine and just waking up now. No permanent damage. You can see him in a few minutes. He'll be in room 22.” Offering his hand for Sherlock to shake, he surprised John by shaking it.

When they were allowed into Mycroft’s room, Sherlock wrapped his coat around himself as a shield and approached the bed relieved to see his brother sitting up. “Did you forget brother, I do the legwork not you?” He commented in his normal snippy voice.  

“You’ll have to forgive me. It was a moment of weakness. I’ll try to remember not to allow it to happen again.”

“See to it won’t you. I’ll be heading back to my home now that Davison is in custody and I presume you’ll see he stays there for the rest of his life. Don’t work too hard.” With that Sherlock turned and walked out keeping the feelings he was drowning in to himself.

“John, thank you for your assistance in my hour of need. Now if you excuse me, I’m tired and need some rest.” Mycroft started to close his eyes.

“That’s it! I know you saw his tears while you laid on the floor and how upset he was. Are you just letting him walk out? What is with you two?” John was irate.

“Dr. Watson, I don’t know what you’re insinuating. Now excuse me.” He turned his head closing his eye.

As John left, Mycroft heard him saying, “Damn Holmes, afraid to admit they care.”

Davison had been found guilty of attempting to kill Sherlock and Mycroft and promptly disappeared. Only a few knew of the man in a cell deep in an unknown prison.

Sherlock decided to deal with his feelings for his brother by disregarding them and carry on as his discovery was undiscovered.


	4. Nine months later.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is in trouble.

Sherlock needed to acquire some information that Mycroft had denied him and decided to break into his brother’s house. Going to bypass the security system, he noticed that it wasn’t activated. Now that was strange with Mycroft’s paranoia. It was always on even when he was at home. Someone must have already entered the house. The question was who and where was his brother?

Quietly entering the hall, he listened. Hearing no sounds, he moved further into the house. At the last minute, he grabbed one of Mycroft’s unique umbrellas. Pulling the handle up, a short sword emerged. “Figured there would be something hidden in here.”

He searched with a frightening silence invading the house. No sounds broke into his search until he reached the stairs going up to his brother’s bedroom when he heard a noise. Moving quickly but silently, he rushed as quickly as possible toward the sound.

Opening the door, Sherlock discovered with a messy figure surrounded by blood on the floor. The body moaned, and Sherlock hurried to what turned out to be his brother.

“Mycroft,” he cried out and was answered with another groan, there was no recognition in those usually blue eyes. Leaning over, he felt for a radial pulse and found a barely palpable one.

Unsure what to do, he tried to touch his brother to search where the blood was flowing from, but the scream of pain when he touched Mycroft’s chest had Sherlock pulling back.

Grabbing his phone, he called Anthea. When she picked up, he yelled into the phone. “Mycroft needs help immediately. He’s bleeding and not waking up.”

Sherlock could hear her called on another line and after a few words, she came back to him.

“Sherlock, I need to you calm down. Help will be there in a few minutes. Make sure the door is unlocked for them.”

“I never relocked it. It was open when I arrived. Tell the ambulance to hurry.” Sherlock begged with a sob in his throat.

Within Minutes, the door filled with gun-toting men followed by the ambulance personnel. “Clear,” one of them yelled. Sherlock was pushed out of the way as the medics began to work on his brother. It seemed like a replay of when Davison shot Mycroft nine months ago.

On the phone, Anthea was talking softly to him assuring him she would be there in a minute and see he is allowed to accompany his brother in the ambulance while trying to calm him down. She had seen the longing looks that Sherlock would give Mycroft when he thought no one was looking.

When they moved Mycroft to a gurney, she asked to talk to the attendant. The phone was pushed back into his hand. “Ride with him. I’ll have John picked up and meet you at our hospital.”

Afraid to touch Mycroft, Sherlock followed behind them. No liveliness in his step and could be heard to say, “You have to live. You just have too.” Stopping he looked behind him and felt himself falling at the saturated blood tinted floor.

“Hey there Mr. Holmes. Let’s catch up with the gurney shall we.” One of Mycroft men had a hold of his arm and supported him as they followed Mycroft.

Anthea left the ambulance first and took Sherlock, who was in the state of shock, to a private waiting room sitting him down. A few minutes later John was escorted into the same room. She nodded to John that mouthed, ‘Check him over, he’s in shock.’

As she left, John said, “Sherlock, you with me? Hey, come on now, talk to me.”

“He’s dead. I know he’s dead. Couldn’t lose that much blood and still live,” Sherlock muttered to himself.

“Sherlock, look at me. Anthea said he’s in surgery that means that he can’t be dead.”

Abruptly Sherlock jumped up and started to pace. Anger colored his face, hand clenched, and voice raised. “I’m going to kill who did this. I’ll find them and make them suffer slowly before I kill them.” Quickly turning he headed toward the door but John caught him.

Turning, he growled at John. “Take you hand off me before I do something you won’t enjoy.”

“Stop and think. You don’t know who did this. I mean Mycroft’s house is a fortress, and yet you found no men guarding it or the alarm activated. Organizing this attack was an inside job, Sherlock. Mycroft will need to tell you who is responsible before you can act. Besides with the violence of this attack, he’ll be worried they went after you also. I’m not a fool, Sherlock. I know how deeply you care for him and see how much he cares for you.”

Before Sherlock could say another word, Anthea and the doctor entered the room. “This is Sherlock Holmes, Mr. Holmes’ brother. You’re to keep him completely information about his brother.” Anthea explained.

The doctor glanced at John questioningly. “That’s Dr. Watson.  He’s to be  included him in the information, also.”

“I see. Well, gentlemen, Mr. Holmes survived the surgery but is in critical condition and still may not survive. He’ll be moved to ICU after they finish closing him in surgery. He has assigned private ICU nurses by Anthea. At this time, he’s attached to a ventilator, drains from his chest as he had a pneumothorax, and stomach to drain the blood from the internal bleeding. A catheter placed, and five IV lines are giving him, pain medication, sedatives to help with healing, antibiotics, fluids, and blood. After he is awake, we’ll add a feeding tube until his stomach heals enough for him to eat. The next 24 hours will give us an idea of how seriously his injuries will affect his life. Question?”

John looked over at Sherlock, who nodded. “His injuries?”

Taking a deep breath, the doctor glanced at Sherlock, “Are you sure you want to know all the details?”

Seeing the anger raising in Sherlock, John placed a hand on him. “Sherlock wants all the details as will the police. DI Lestrade is in the waiting room. If you could send for him, then you will only need to explain it once.”

Anthea was out the door before John finished, and a few moments later was back with Greg.

“You can start now,” Sherlock snarled.


	5. The Secret is out of the bag.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock discovers something that sees him seeing red.

Chapter 5 – The Secret is out of the bag.

“Mr. Holmes has a cracked skill but no bleeding which is promising. A broken jaw, six cracked ribs, ruptured spleen we removed due to damage, bruises on his major organs which we are trying to take as much pressure off as we can.

Lacerations, bruising, and cigarette burns cover his body. Ligature marks on his wrists and ankles that I would say were made by cords. And on his right side, his femur and humerus are broken in numerous places that we’ve pinned, and a dislocated shoulder.

He does have defensive wounds on his hands, arms and fingers that show he put up quite a fight.” At this point, the doctor stopped not wanting to address the last item with them, but one look from Sherlock had him continuing. “I’m sorry, but he was penetrated with some object that tore him up that stitched up.”

Sherlock's legs weakened. Only because John and Greg were helping him to a seat before he fell over, saved him from landing on the floor.

“To be honest we’re not sure how he is hanging on, but I’d give a 40/60 chance. I’m going to check on him now. Any changes and I’ll let you know immediately.”

As the doctor turned to leave, “When can I see him?” A voice seemingly belonging to a child asked.

“I’ve been informed Mr. Holmes that you are to have full access to your brother. Give us another hour to settle him, and someone will come and get you.”

After the doctor left the room, John handed him the water Anthea had gotten him. “Sherlock, he’s alive and that’s good news.”

Swallowing the water, he looked up. “I need him, John. He doesn’t know that I appreciate what he does for me. That I care for him.”

The others looked at him. Although they all knew he did care, there was something more in what he was saying now, yet no one said anything.

Greg observed his friend. He had never seen him so shook up and not even inquiring about the case. “Mycroft’s men took over the investigation, so I’m not sure what is going on there. But Sherlock, I know you. I reckon that you’ll be getting involved whether they want you too or not but don’t do anything stupid, okay. I don’t want to have to lock you up.”

Sherlock didn’t acknowledge the statement or anyone in the room. He just stared at the door waiting to be called to his brother’s bedside. Greg said goodbye to the others, and patted Sherlock shoulder, “I’m here if you need me.” And he left.

Anthea and John spoke softly in the corner of the room. Attempting to figure out how someone entered Mycroft’s house and who it was. “Mycroft didn’t want me to say anything, but Davison escaped. I believe it was him.”

“What?” Sherlock roared. “And no one thought it was important to tell me. Let me know the man who shot Mycroft was now free, and I’m sure out for his blood. Whose asinine idea was it it a secret from me? Although I’m sure, I know. He’s lucky he’s lying in that bed unconscious, or I’d put him to sleep.”

Trying not to laugh at Sherlock claim, John attempted to calm him down. “Sherlock, you can’t yell in the hospital unless you want to be thrown out. I’m sure he was trying to protect you.”

“And put himself in the firing line. When Mycroft’s well enough, I’m going to kill my brother,” Sherlock scowled.

Nothing more was said as the door opened and a nurse walked in. “Mr. Holmes?” Sherlock nodded. “You can come in now, but I’m warning you anymore shouting, and you will be asked to leave. Your brother needs rest, and I refused to let you disturb my patient. I’m Nurse Jennings and your brother’s night nurse. Now, straighten out and come with me. I’ve heard about you Mr. Holmes and will put up with none of your shenanigans young man.” The orders were characterist of an old army nurse. Straight forward and use to having her directions followed.

“Sorry,” Sherlock said softly and followed her quietly.

\-----------------------

Stepping into his brother’s room, Sherlock drew in his breath while grabbed a chair to keep his legs from buckling. Tears began to run down his face, and he was moaning Mycie, Mycie.


	6. I understand your wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft wakes and Sherlock understands what Mycroft is asking. But will he comply?

Mycroft was cleaned up of blood and the cleaned off skin was various colors of the rainbow where bandages weren’t covering his body. Although warned, the site of tubes running into and out of his brother was overwhelming. He worried as the fluids came in, but blood seemed to return just as fast.

“Why is he still bleeding?” He asked no one in specific and jumped as John placed a hand on his shoulder and said.

John wanted to give his flatmate some time alone with Mycroft but only if he would be able to handle it. “Sherlock, you know that the old blood needs to drain. Look at the color of it. Are you going to be all right, if I step out to let Mrs. Hudson know that it will be a while before we return? You know how she worries when we disappear without letting her know.”

Never taking his eyes off Mycroft, he waved John away. “I’m fine, go let her know.” After John had stepped into the hall, Sherlock pulled his chair up to the bed. Finding a finger uninjured, he touched it.

“You can’t lay around too long, you know. You’re the British Government, what would they do without you around to tell them how wrong they are. Oh Mycie, I need you. Please don’t die.”

Placing his head on the bed while waiting for John to come back, Sherlock's eyes began to close as his stress, fear and tiredness took over. When John returned to the room, he found the brothers both sleeping. He smiled at the brothers wondering if they would ever voice the fact that they cared for each other. 

Nurse Jennings appeared to take Mycroft’s vital and check on his lines and drips. Seeing the detective sleeping, she smiled at him. “He cares deeply about his brother doesn’t he,” then turned to her patient. “Poor man, he’ll have a long road to recovery, and no promised he’ll be as good as before. Hopefully, his friends and brother’s care will help him recover.”

John almost snorted but then thought about how his friend had been acting around Mycroft lately and how others seemed to be more open around the ‘British Government.' Mrs. Hudson had even baked Mycroft’s favorite biscuits last time she knew he was coming over. I’ve even been friendlier to him lately and didn’t realize it. Sherlock actions seemed to lead the way about how others act around Mycroft.

“We’ll be there for him,” John reconfirmed.

The nurse turned to leave when she glanced at Sherlock a small smile on her face. “Poor dear will get cold.” She grabbed a rug cover placing it over him.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was almost a week later that moaning woke Sherlock and John, who had taken up residence in the room. Mycroft was trying to sit up but was unable to move. Sherlock placed a hand on his chest general, “Easy brother mine. You’re in rugged shape and won’t be able to move for a while.”

“Sher….?” Mycroft tried.

Grabbing water only to be stopped John and handed a swab who reminded him of the stomach injury. Sherlock moistened his brother’s mouth.

“Hurt,” came a whisper.

John was already on the call button to get relief for pain and to notify them that Mycroft was awake.

“Long?”

“You’ve been unconscious for a week,” Sherlock answered. “Why didn’t you tell me Davison was out? I would have gone after him before he could get to you.”

“And get you hurt or killed,” Mycroft voice fading away.

Sherlock became angry. Shouting moved over the bed,” We have an agreement. I do the legwork, and you get on my nerves.  I can take care of myself and don’t’ need your protection.”

John pulled Sherlock back and shook his head.  “This is not the time to yell at him.”

“Don’t go after him. He threatened you everytime he talked to him in prison.  I didn’t want to worry. Then the last thing he had said to me before I became unconscious, he bragged that you were next.” Mycroft whisper turned into an agonizing cough.

The doctor came in and began to check Mycroft over while Nurse Jennings stood with her arms folded glaring at Sherlock. Once the doctor pronounced the patient doing as well expected and warned him about trying to move around in the bed without help, he left leaving the nurse behind.

“Mr. Holmes, I warned you about behaving. Yelling at my patient is definitely not okay. Now either you quiet down or leave.” Shaking her finger in his face, she warned Sherlock.

“Now, Mr. Holmes,” looking at her patient. “You need to rest. I’m going to give you something for pain then I want you to sleep. Your visitors will be quiet or leave. Isn’t that right gentlemen?”

“Yes miss,” John assured her. A small slap on the back of Sherlock's head had him agreeing.

After she had left, Mycroft eyes began to close, but before sleep took him again, he looked at his brother, “Please leave Davison to my men, promise me.”

“I understand your wishes,” Sherlock evaded promising anything.

“Stay safe,” Mycroft said as he fell asleep.

John looked over at Sherlock. The expression on his face was one he knew well. “I know that look, Sherlock, you planning on going after him, aren’t you?”

“Someone tried to kill my brother, and no one gets away with that,” was all Sherlock said before returning his gaze to Mycroft.

____________________________________________________________

Mycroft’s weakened condition and dulled mind because of the medicines he was taking believed Sherlock had given up trying to catch Davison. No one told him differently as they were afraid that he would attempt to release himself from the hospital to protect his brother. Sherlock was always there for his physical therapy appointments and meals causing Mycroft to believe that didn’t give him time to be actively investigating the attack, did it?

John tried talking to, pleading, threatening, and even involving Greg but nothing convinced Sherlock to let Mycroft’s men deal with the case. When he wasn’t at the hospital with Mycroft, he was talking to his homeless network, going over the crime scene, and posting notes on the wall of the apartment. To get the man to sleep or eat was nearly impossible and only threatening to tell Mycroft what he was doing had him complying.


	7. Davison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock confronts Davison

Chapter 7---Davison

Covers thrown back, an excited detective threw his clothes at him waking John up out of the best dream he had in quite a while.

“You idiot, what are you doing? John demanded attempting to pull his covers back over him. “It’s three in the bloody morning in case you haven’t noticed, and I was enjoying sleeping.”

“Get up and get dressed. I know where Davison is.” The excitement was radiating from Sherlock.

“Did you notify Mycroft’s men or at less Lestrade?” John asked as he yawned.

Sherlock began pacing. “No time. We need to leave now, or he’ll escape again. Besides, they’ll just mess it up. Now, are you coming or wasting your life sleeping?” He challenged as he pulled his coat around him and pushed his collar up.

Knowing it was either go with him or get a call from the hospital saying he was hurt, “Just give me a minute to dress,” he huffed throwing the covers off and swinging his legs off the bed.

Sherlock headed down the steps to the landing with his coat flying after him and yelled, “Five minutes John.”

Mumbling under his breath, John dressed quickly, grabbed his gun, and placed it in his waistband.

Heading down the stairs, he found Sherlock staring at his watch and pacing. “Eight and a half minutes John. You're getting slow in your old age.”

“Shut it, you ass,” John demanded as he headed down the stairs to the sidewalk. Sherlock bypassed him, raised his hand, and a taxi magically appeared.

After giving the driver the address, Sherlock was bouncing with joy.

“Calm down,” John ordered. “You’re giving me a headache. Care to share your plan?”

“Plan? We’re just going in and capture him.

“Sherlock!” John pinched his nose in frustration. “That’s not a plan, its suicide. Did you forget whoever is working with him since his escape knows how to take care of themselves?”

“I don’t care about them. Let Mycroft’s men deal with that. I want Davison. He’s the one who directed the violence against my brother,” Sherlock shouted through clenched teeth, fire changing the normal color of his eyes to black. “He’s mine.”

“I know how angry you’re about Mycroft, but we need to turn him over to Mycroft’s men or at least Lestrade,” John tried reasoning with him. “Killing him will only cause your brother more trouble trying to keep you out of jail.”

“I’m not going to kill him. After I beat him to a pulp, they can pick up what’s left of the garbage.”

To this point, the cab driver had tried to ignore their conversation but choked at the last statement.

“Mate, ya not going ta do nothing in ‘ere is ya?”

John spoke quickly trying to defuse the situation and prevent Sherlock from speaking. “He’s just blowing off steam.” A huff came from the detective as he turned toward the window.

“Yes, just blowing off steam with my fist,” he mumbled.

When the cab stopped, John threw money at the driver while grabbing Sherlock’s coat as his roommate was ready to storm off toward the old mattress factory.

“We do this together or not at all,” John said in his captain’s voice.

Sherlock turned trying to use his height to intimidate John.

Standing his ground, John stated, “Not going to work. We’re either together or not at all. Choose!”

The staring contest had lasted only a few minutes before Sherlock said, “Together then.”

After scouting the old mattress building, the flatmates decided to come from two directions hoping to keep the men inside the circle of mattress they had created to play cards. Davison and his men were arguing over the game, when John yelled, “Don’t move.”

Of course, it had just the opposite effect. One man ran toward where Sherlock stepped out as he came running by and tripped him before hitting him on the head with a pipe the detective had picked up. Another man ran toward John and managed to hit John before they began to round on the floor, exchanging punches.

Now only Davison who was starting at Sherlock was left before he took off toward the stairs at the rear of the building. Reaching the stairs before the detective, Davison ran up them to the catwalk where Sherlock caught up and cornered him.

Anger and hatred steamed off Sherlock as he walked determinedly toward the man.

“Listen Gov; I’s got no beef with you,” Davison tried but was cut off by the detective.

“I, however, have a ‘beef’ with you. You’re lucky you didn’t kill Mycroft, or you’d be a dead man. Now, you’ll just be in pain you’ll never get over.”

While talking, Sherlock moved closer to the trapped man. Without warning, Davison was swinging his hand forward with a fist wrapped around a knife that sank into Sherlock’s side.

Growling Sherlock ignored the pain attacking Davison. They were exchanging blows until Davison grabbed the detective and pushed him against the railing. As Sherlock started going over, he seized Davison pulling him over also.


	8. Bloody Berk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock faces John's anger.

Chapter 8 Bloody Berk

Grabbling Davison, the two of them fell from the catwalk twenty feet to the ground, Sherlock landing on the mattresses pile five high softening the blow, while Davison hit the single one on the ground. As he began to stand unsteady, Sherlock leaped landing on top of him. Sherlock rolled them off the mattress and began to beat him.

“I’s givin’ up just take me in,” Davison yelled over the blows trying unsuccessfully to fight the mad man off.

Sherlock stopped hitting him for a second, “You don’t’ get to surrender. You and your friends almost killed my brother. I intend to return the favor.”

“Ya can’t. I ‘ave ya caged gov.”

A fist to the jaw shut Davison up followed by some kicks and stomping until arms were pulling him off.

John caught up with the men to see Sherlock beating Davison. With regret, John yanked his roommate back preventing him from killing the fugitive. Davison didn’t quite look as bad as Mycroft had, but was sure to suffer a lot for the next few months at least before his Mycroft’s men could ‘interrogated’ him.

Growling he turned around to face John, “Why?”

“Mycroft needs you to help him not in prison for murder. Lestrade will be here in a minute, calm down.” Just as he finished talking Mycroft’s man and the police rushed in.

Taking one look at the bloody man before him, Lestrade whistled. “What happened to him?”

“Fell off the catwalk and landed on the ground.” John offered before Sherlock would say something he shouldn’t.

“Yes, catwalks and windows can cause a lot of injuries when someone falls off and out of them.” Lestrade agreed. “Well gentlemen, you better get a gurney to take your prisoner away.” Mycroft’s men did as told and remove the man leaving John, Sherlock, and Lestrade alone.

As Davison was leaving the building, he woke up yelling “I’s want ‘olmes nicked.  ‘e attacked me and I’s did numfin.'”

The sound of a fist hitting flesh shut him up.

“Someday you’re not going to be believed then you tell another DI the perp fell,” Lestrade warned.

As Sherlock raised his eyebrows with a smirk, his eyes rolled back before he hit the floor.

“What the heck?” John was beside his friend immediately. He began to turn him on his side when he felt wetness on his hand. Opening his coat, he found his shirt soaked in blood. “He’s injured, and of course he couldn’t tell anyone.”

“I called an ambulance,” Greg knelt by John after calling and helped him peel Sherlock’s the coat off. Lifting his shirt, they found a knife wound still bleeding heavily. “How is he even standing with that wound?” Greg shook his head wondering aloud. “His coat is soaked in blood. I’m sure he won’t be happy when they have to get rid of it.”

“Stubbornness,” John said pressing Sherlock’s scarf against it. “His transport wouldn’t dare get in the way of a case. I hear sirens. Get them in here, will you?”

When the attendants arrived, Dr. Watson had taken over.

“He needs a few large bore lines then fluids open wide to replace what he lost, and some oxygen. Let’s get him to the hospital, tell them to have surgery waiting.”

As they loaded him into the ambulance, his eyes fluttered open, “John, what happened?”

“You berk. You were bleeding to death but didn’t see fit to tell anyone. We’re on the way to the hospital.” John raised his voice in frustration.

“Can’t you just sew it up at home?” a weak request could be heard.

“NO! You need blood, fluids, and surgery. Now just lay there and be quiet,” John was angry with worry.

“But John, I don’t want to go to the hospital?” Sherlock whined.

“You bloody git, you’re going to the hospital and being taken care of.  You’re not going to give them a problem and you’re going to stay until they release you.” The Dr. Watson voice meant business and Sherlock knew it, but he had to try.

“But….”

“No buts.  You’ll do as your told.”

“Don’t tell Mycroft?” Sherlock pleaded giving in. He knew nothing would change John’s mind.

“He’s already arranged for you to share his room. Now just lay there.”

“Why did you tell him?”  Sherlock grumbled.

“Because he’ll find out sooner and later.  Besides he is arranging everything for you.  One more time he has to help you instead of getting better as he should be.”  There was a little bitterness in John’s voice.

“He’s going to be angry that I was hurt and went against his orders not to get involved.” Sherlock moaned with pain as he attempted to sit up.

Pushing him back down, John glared at him. Sherlock knew there was no chance he could convince John otherwise.

……….

Surgery had successfully stopped the spleen that was bleeding as the knife nicked it then they sewed up the site. When Sherlock aware enough to be safe, he was transferred to Mycroft’s room.

Sherlock woke slowly but kept his eyes closed. He examined the area around him. Medical machines and low voices, the smell of disinfectant and his brother’s soap, and the feel of starched sheets cover him. His brother’s room then.

“I know you’re awake Sherlock. You might as well open your eyes,” Mycroft ordered him.


	9. Discovery and Admissions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Holmes boys finally talk.

Chapter 9

“How are you feeling, brother?” Sherlock asked.      

“Don’t you dare try that with me,” Mycroft was angry. “I asked you to stay out of it. Told you I didn’t want you hurt. And you promised me you would.”

“I didn’t exactly promise. I simply said I understood your wishes, not that I would follow them.”

“Don’t play a game of semantic with me Sherlock. You knew exactly what I meant when I asked you to stay out of it. But not the great Sherlock Holmes has to be the one to bring the criminal to justice. Never mind how much it will hurt someone else to see you injured.”

Sherlock became irate, “No one, and I do mean no one, will ever hurt you and get away with it Mikey. Not as long as I have a breath in my body. No one.”

“I appreciate your desire to protect me, but that’s what I have security for.”

“And what a wonderful job they did.   Their protection has put you in the that bed.  I know you don’t do sentiment, but I can’t let this happen again.  As you once said, ‘Your lose would break my heart.’  You just don’t understand how much it would break it, Mikey.”

“Oh Sherlock, you haven’t called me Mikey since you were a child. Where did we lose the closeness, we had then? Was it me who caused this distance?”

“We are both to blame, but it’s not too late for us to change that is it, Mikey.”

Just the name brought back feelings Mycroft had long ago hid. Sherlock was his younger brother, and these feelings weren’t acceptable. Yet, the look in his brother’s eyes said he felt the same.

Touching his brother’s arm unexpectedly, Sherlock felt a tremble run through Mycroft and asked uncertainly. “Do you feel as I do?”

“I think so. But we shouldn’t. It’s immoral. We don’t dare. What would others say?” Mycroft appealed to his brother sense of responsibility.

“I never have cared what others think and to hell with immoral. Love doesn’t follow the rules of man but the heart. Funny, isn’t it? We both have said we don’t have a heart. But it’s not we don’t have a heart but that our hearts desires have been right next to us all our lives. Please?”

“I have hidden these feeling all my life because I didn’t think you felt the same way.” Mycroft tried to explain.

“I also have.”

“We can’t do this here and now. Let’s take some time to see if we feel the same. We need to talk about this and make sure and then when we’re released if we are sure, we’ll go from there.” Mycroft whispered in disbelief.

A nod from Sherlock and both knew they would be free of the hospital as soon as possible.

The Holmes brothers were discharged on the same day a week later, and although well behaved for them, the staff was happy to see them go. The brother’s explained to the others that Sherlock would be staying at Mycroft’s home to make it easier for the medical staff that had to come by daily for their dressing changes and physical therapy.

Anthea was there to accompany them home and make sure they weren’t in need of anything that she may have missed. Once they were inside and everything was acceptable, she prepared to leave.

“And Sir, I’ve cleared your calendar in case your busy tonight,” she informed them giving the two of a smirk. Both men turned bright red with embarrassment.

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Mycroft managed to choke out.

“I’m not blind sir. You forget that you’ve taught me to observe. I think it’s time you two allow your heart to hear and see where this stay is heading.” Before either of them could respond, “I’ll make sure you’re informed if anyone approaches the house.”

As the door closed, they glanced shyly at each other.

Mycroft headed toward the sitting room that had a roaring fire going. Sitting on the couch, he patted the area next to him.

Sherlock sat need him and cleared his throat. “Is she right? Do we need to talk? Then know I want you.”

Mycroft had no answer. He thought he knew what he wanted but didn’t want to make his brother feel like they had to do this.

He unexpectedly felt Sherlock’s head softly landing how his shoulder. The warm that went through his system at the touch made him smile. He never felt like this before without the other person have a motive. He had always had loneliness only to keep him company. Sherlock seemed to want to be with him without anything except love in return. Love that would bring an end his loneliness. “Are you sure, Sherlock?”

“For a long time,” Timidly Sherlock leaned into his brother and pushed his lips against Mycroft’s. Pulling back, “Okay?”

“Very much,” Mycroft pulled Sherlock back to him and pressed his lips against Sherlock.

The two spend the next few hours kissing accompanied by moans of pleasure and exploring each other. Sherlock discovered his brother shivered when kissed on the ear while Mycroft discovered his brother was ticklish and teased Sherlock until he begged Mycroft to stop.

Taking a break, Mycroft asked, “Are you hungry? It’s been hours since breakfast.”

Face deepening the flush, Sherlock asked. “Depends on what you’re offering.”

“For someone who is a virgin, you're awful forward,” Mycroft teased.

Pouting Sherlock said, “After tonight, I hope never to hear that word again.”

“Then a lite meal to keep up your strength and we’ll take care of that word for you.”

The two brothers stared at each other as they ate silently lost in their thoughts. Both hoped the other wasn't having second thoughts.


	10. Finally!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking is over and now is the time for action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, the kudos, and comments. It was fun to write and the prompts were wonderful. Wonder what others that find out will think about it? Will they accept it or will they abandon the Holmes brothers I'm working on a sequel. Called "Will you accept me?"

When they finished eating, Sherlock looked up under his lashes. “I’m done.”                                                   

“Shall we head up to the bedroom,” Mycroft suggested licking his lips as they stood up. “Unless you have another suggestion?”

Sherlock followed his brother’s eyes to his trousers that were tented. His face became bright red as he nodded too embarrassed to speak. “Bed would be good.” And offered his hand to Mycroft

The two walked up the stairs with their hands joined. As they entered the door, Sherlock stopped looking at his brother’s king size bed.

“We don’t have to, little brother.”

“I want to, but not sure what to do,” Sherlock admitted. “I mean I’ve read about it but never tried. Even with all the drugs, it was one thing I never did. I promise Mycroft that I’m clean.”

“Sherlock, I know.”

“Right, you’re the British Government and know everything,” Sherlock said with a weak laugh.

“Sherlock are you sure about this? We don’t have to do anything more.” Mycroft assured him.

“Don’t be annoying. I do want this, but can we go slow?” Insecurity heard in Sherlock’s voice.

“As slow as you like. Now come here, I’d like to continue with those kisses.”

Sherlock joined Mycroft standing by the bed. Leaning in to kiss his brother, he could feel warm hands on his shirt. Slowly the buttons were being undone, and fingers touched the exposed skin. Mycroft broke the kiss on his lips to continue them down his exposed chest. It felt like fire on the skin that caused his cock to harden more.

Hands began to explore Sherlock’s hair, pulling it lightly. “You can touch me,” Mycroft assure him.

Sherlock placed a small kiss on Mycroft’s neck followed by a lick. Other kisses pepper his neck before Sherlock undid his brother’s buttons opening his vest. “You wear too many clothes,” Sherlock complained as he started on his brother’s shirt. Shortly both shirts pushed off their shoulders, belts undone, and zippers opened. Trousers and pants pushed down, and they stepped out of them. When both were naked, Mycroft pushed Sherlock on the bed who moved up more to become comfortable.

Looking down at his younger brother Mycroft admired the man before him. Some fear with exhilaration could be seen in his eyes. “You’re stunning, and I want you so much, but are you sure Sherlock?”

“If you ask me one more time, I swear I’m going to leave. Now get in here with me. I want you inside me sometime this year.”

Mycroft laughed, “Always impatient brother mine but we need to take this slow.”

Sherlock huffed but settled as Mycroft laid next to him. The slow loving touches, the kisses, and the explorations lead to the noises of arousal.

Mycroft opened his side table drawer pulling out lube. “Prepared, are we?” Sherlock teased raising his eyebrows.

“In my position, one must always be prepared,” he squeezed some on his fingers. Gently he rubbed around Sherlock’s hole until it relaxed and then pushed one finger tenderly in resulting in a hiss from Sherlock.

“Are you, all right?” Mycroft quickly began to remove his finger.

“Don’t, just different. I need you to keep going.”

With permission, they progressed leisurely allowing Sherlock to adjust to each finger as it entered him. Finally, his patience ran out. “Are we going to get to the main event sometime this year?”

“You’re always so impatient, brother mine.  I wish I could see you as we do this, but for the first time, I think this will be less painful for you” Mycroft told him as he removed his fingers. He placed pillows under Sherlock’s hips and gently knelt below him. Slowly pushing in, he frequently stopped until he was seated deeply inside. Waiting for the okay to move, he kissed Sherlock’s back. A nod had him beginning to move slowly.

The noises from his brother encouraged him to move faster and deeper. He felt the pressure building in his stomach and began to pull out.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock turned his head shocked that Mycroft has stopped.

“I was getting close to a climax and didn’t want to assume y….”

“I want this, all of it. Now don’t stop.” Sherlock demanded in his customary way then laid back on his pillow.

Within a few more thrusts yelling out the others name, Mycroft came followed by Sherlock following him.

After a few minutes, Mycroft pulled out and laid beside his brother.  He began running his finger through his hair. Sherlock buried himself into Mycroft’s chest and snuggled closer.

“Snuggling brother dear, I didn’t think you believe in it.” Mycroft teased.

“Shut it, and let me enjoy the afterglow,” Sherlock looked up and smiled at his brother. “You do know how much I love you, don’t you?” Sherlock glowed with happiness. Before a sad look came over his face, and he buried it again.

Mycroft noticed and became worried that Sherlock was regretting their actions. “What’s wrong?”

“We can never tell anyone, or be open in public. Never let it be known we love one another.”

“We’ll find a few we can share this with, but you're right in public we must be as we’ve always been. Although, I think Anthea knows, and Mrs. Huston will be happy for you. I know it's not ideal, but I love you and want you.”

“And John, what will he think?  Do you think he’ll hate me and leave for what we’re doing?”

Mycroft leans upon his arm staring into Sherlock’s sad eyes. “And if he does will you give me up?”

“Never, now that I’ve found love.”

“Then if he is truly your friend, he may not approve of it, but he will accept your happiness.  Now we’re supposed to be resting.  I suggest we do.” 

“And in the morning?  Can we have an encore?” The shyness was back on Sherlock’s face.

“I’ve created a monster.  Go to sleep Sherlock, we both need our rest.”

The two held each other and fell asleep smiling. The sound of one cell phone woke them. Releasing his brother, Mycroft swore and grabbed his phone just as Sherlock’s also rang.

“What?” They both yelled into their phones. After listening to Anthea and Lestrade respectively, they began to dress.

“We’re supposed to be on medical leave for the week. But those idiots at NSY can’t find their own killer. It better be at least an eight.” Sherlock pouted.

“Only I can calm down the ambassadors who are threatening war if I’m not there as a go between them. Bull!  They’re just a children wanting their way.” Mycroft grumbled.

As they looked at each other, they started laughing as they headed down the stairs. Anthea was waiting for them in the front hallway with a concerned look on her face.

“Sorry gentlemen that we needed you. Hopefully, it will only take a few hours for you both to sort the problems out before you can get back to your,” she stopped and looked them over, “rest? May I suggest you both comb your hairs before getting to your locations.  It looks like you both were mugged by a sex maniac.”

Looking at each other, the men began laughing harder. Grabbing their umbrella and coat, the two walked out the door to the waiting car.

“I don’t know if I like this situation if the two of you are going to act like children,” Anthea murmured as she entered the car only to have the laughter increase in volume


End file.
